Every couch that we have ever owned eats things. Even the last one that was barely an inch above the ground. Like a washing machine to socks. I don't understand how it happens, but things disappear.

It's no surprise that when one of the kids can't seem to find the match to one of their six zillion pairs of shoes, the first place they look is under the couch. We do have a nifty shoe rack right by the front door, but why would they ever think to look there first?!

Tennis shoes, flip flops, super awesome new sandals - I know where all of those are. But, no! The Dude (formally Little Dude, who is not so little anymore) wanted to wear his Steeler Crocs that are now duct taped together a la the husband.

The first place he looks to find the missing match? You guessed it. Under the couch. I feared what he would find because I knew it wouldn't be a shoe. At least not right away. Don't you know, the little punk pulls a $20 bill out from under the couch.

A twenty dollar bill!

What.the.hell?!

He later used that precious bill to purchase a brand spanking new fire truck. Complete with siren sounds. And no volume button. Opening that stupid truck is a post in itself!

Just this morning before being forced asked to clean his room in this lovely swampy Burgh weather, he decided to play with said annoying as hell truck. In the process he happens to look under his bookshelf. What does he find under there? More money! Eleven dollars to be exact.